Scarecrows In Fields II
by Ruth Lechner
Summary: Sequel to 'Scarecrows In Fields'. MUST READ FIRST STORY TO UNDERSTAND. Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow/OC When Jonathan was imprisoned, Isabelle moved on with her life. She's healed, rekindled her relationship with her mother, and even got a new haircut (lol just kidding). But now that he's broken out, and coming back for her, what will she do? Slight AU-ish Batman Begins/Dark Knight
1. Chapter 1

"Breaking news, the criminal known as 'The Scarecrow', has escaped from Arkham Asylum,"

"News of the breakout only reached us this morning, uh,"

"Officials are on the case, but nothing promising yet,"

"Uh, no, ma'am, we have not found any leads-" said a police officer.

"How did he break out?" asked the Asian female reporter, putting her microphone in his face on camera. He put up his hands, spoke, and turned away.

"The investigation is ongoing."

The female turned back to the camera.

"No word yet on possible accomplices, and what he plans to do next,"

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><p>Isabelle looked out at the yellow cornfields that swayed in the breeze of the Georgian sun, a small smile on her face. It was nice to be back home. After living under the cloud above Gotham for so long, just seeing the sun and smelling the scents of the country energized her. She was vacationing to see her mother, and her stepfather. They were married last year. When she arrived on their doorstep, and welcomed Steve with warmth, he showed surprised but then delighted happiness that she'd accepted him into her life, and to be with her mother. It'd been plaguing him for years.<p>

Isabelle was staying as a guest in their very nice house. It was big, and they had their own ranch and farm hands, which made Isabelle laugh. She remembered when she had to do their work because they didn't have the money for help. They had an acreage that was much smaller than this one too. Her mother's business was really treating her well.

She'd been out in Georgia for a week, and was beginning to wonder why she'd ever left. Then she remembered - it was to get away from her trauma. Seeing the fields that would remind her of how she had been stuck in an underground bunker, how it was Jonathan but she wouldn't tell the police. How she'd lost her father here, the father she'd never had in the first place, and her dreams crashing and falling.

She'd missed Georgia. Her mother now had a fantastic life. She lived in comfort and wealth, and she offered that same life to Isabelle. All resentment of her step father melted away, she rekindled her relationship with her mother, she really had no reason to say no. Certainly, her job was in Gotham, but they would appreciate a graphic designer in their smaller posts in smaller towns, like hers.

Isabelle's eyes found the scarecrow standing crucified in the field. Indeed, why hadn't she come back in all this time?

She turned from the scenery and walked back inside, the bug net door banging shut behind her as it did.

She missed Jonathan, of course she did. But she tried not to think about him too often.

It was decided. She'd have a better life here, in Georgia, where her mother was. Once she got back to Gotham she'd put in a request for a transfer.

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><p>It was all over the news as she walked through the airplane terminal. Every TV, flatscreen and mobile phone was playing it. She saw the same footage being played out on all the screens as she dragged her luggage across the shiny floor behind her. She came to a TV that was playing above a Starbucks where a crowd had formed. She listened quietly with a furrowed brow.<p>

The Scarecrow had broken out of Arkham Asylum.


	2. Chapter 2

The much anticipated second chapter! Loved the reviews! I have much in store for this story, which is why it's a sequel and not added to the first one. Hope you enjoy :) It's short, but the next update's going to be much, much quicker, and it'll stay being updated quickly like Scarecrows In Field I. The reason it took so long to update was that I was getting other things out of the way so that I could focus on this one. Yup :) So updates will come quicker from now on. I'll be keeping with my style from the first story, so chapters will be short and almost abrupt. And quick updates. And don't worry - plenty of Jonathan and Jonathan/Isabelle! :) So it's short, but it's better that way in the long run, trust me :)

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><p>Isabelle was working on a iPad while waiting outside the conference room for the meeting. Her thumbs worked quickly on the tablet. Two women walked by in conversation with one another,<p>

"Hey, did you hear? That Scarecrow guy's not caught yet!"

"I heard they haven't found them,"

Isabelle eyed the women just as it was time for her to go inside. She rotated around and pushed open the cool glass door, walking into the nicely air conditioned room. Her director opened up his arms and smiled in welcome for her arrival.

"Isabelle! Take a seat,"

"Oh no thank you, sir, this will only take a moment," She said with a smile.

"Really? A transfer, Isabelle?" He said. His tone wasn't patronizing, but more out of surprise. "I thought you liked it here,"

"I put it in earlier than I already was going to... I think it's rather urgent," She chuckled. "I want to be at home with my family before I lose them,"

The man nodded understandingly.

"Ah. Well, family's all we got these days."

"Mm." She smiled warmly.

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><p>It'd been a week after Scarecrow broke out of imprisonment. It took that long for her to get her affairs in order. She was ready to get the plane back to Georgia. Sweet, sweet Georgia. Where all her memories were, and her family.<p>

For the second time in that week Isabelle wheeled her luggage through the airport, checking her watch. In her hand was her ticket and passport.

She had truly meant what she'd said to her boss - she wanted to get back to her family. Her job was in order, her relationship with her family was better than ever, she really wanted to move back to home and continue that. Out in Gotham, she had no one, no support. She felt quite lonely without Jonathan. And truth be told, she didn't know if he was going to come back for her or not. He was free now, free to do his own business, and they'd discussed before they'd parted that if they stayed together, she could be a weakness used against him, and she knew how Jonathan was about weaknesses. She decided she wasn't going to wait around - she was going back to her family and she was going to enjoy her life with people who loved her and whom she loved dearly.

Isabelle found the place to check in her bags and watched them roll behind the hanging flaps with their identification tickets strapped to the handles. The lady behind the counter smiled at her and handed her her ticket again and Isabelle was on her way.

With just her carry on luggage, Isabelle went to find her terminal, her heels clicking on polished white airport floor. She never liked airport floors - they were always so slippery.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay I don't know why but this didn't show up when I posted it and also whacked out when I tried to access the link via email. So I updated it again!

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><p>Isabelle's head lulled back onto the backseat headrest as the taxi drove her into the small Georgia town. Her head lulled with the movement of the taxi as she looked out the window, watching the signs of the stores light up now that it was dusk and stroll past her window, her dark hair falling onto her shoulder. All the way to her flight and during liftoff she half expected the plane to be hijacked by Jonathan and to be dragged off the plane and brought back to Gotham. Even during the flight when they were in the air, she'd been scanning the people around her, disappointed that none of them were Jonathan. One man she looked twice at, because of his similar hair he had to her Jonathan, but it hadn't been him. She didn't even know if he would find her again, and if he did, did he really want her to stay in Gotham?<p>

The taxi hit the dirt road and the once smooth road turned gravelly, and Isabelle sat up in her seat to adjust. The taxi driver looked at her in worry in the rear view mirror, and she chuckled,

"Yeah, it gets gravelly in this bit. They haven't fixed it yet," She laughed. The man looked reassured and he continued driving. As they drove, they saw a few pedestrians, who watched the taxi approach and pass by.

"Don't get many visitors," She said to the driver.

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><p>She slammed the bumblebee yellow door shut after she got out. She leaned on the driver's window as she paid the hefty fare - but it was a once in a lifetime fare. It wouldn't be often where she'd make trips from the airport to home from now on, not if her short-termed, temporary plan went, well, to plan.<p>

She took out her luggage from the back, the man kindly helping her with it. She smiled and thanked him and he thanked her and drove off with a whirl of dust coming from the back of his dust caked tires.

Isabelle ascended the steps to her mother's home, dragging her classic black luggage - not yet stained with dirt, it was one color - up the steps with both hands. The wheels were the only thing that had dirt on them. She rang the doorbell, and stood outside while the sky turned dark. A few minutes later, her mother answered the door. When she saw her only daughter, her face lit up.

"Isabelle? I thought you were going to arrive yesterday!" She quickly enveloped her adult daughter in a big embrace, the sleeves of her baggy white hand-knitted sweater surrounding Isabelle in warmth from the night air that was cool but not chilled, only noticeable when surrounded by her mother's warmth.

"I know," Isabelle said in the hug. "There was a flight delay, and then at the flight change they had a late flight coming in because of some hazardous weather,"

"Oh, honey." She ushered Isabelle in. "I'm glad you told me about those nasty storms up East, or I would still be there waiting for you!"

"Huddled, in the corner,"

"With Steve, ringing," Sally made a hand motion to resemble a phone and urgency like the man in question trying to call her to come home. Mother and daughter laughed a little until Sally reached for Isabelle's things.

"No, mom, I've got this,"

"Oh, honey, I know I'm not gettin' any younger, but let me be hostess," Finally Isabelle obliged and Sally wheeled the luggage through the house, Isabelle following behind her, admiring the place.

"Wow, this is a nice house."

Sally grinned.

"Ya say that like you've never been 'ere before!"

"I haven't."

Sally blinked, and her brow frowned. She placed the luggage at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh yes, that's right."

Isabelle grinned.

"This is the house you just bought."

"Oh," Sally waved her hand in dismissal. "I took many things from the old house, sometimes I just don't remember that we've moved," She went from the hallway to the kitchen, Isabelle following. "Sit down! Have some tea!"

"Mom..."

Sally turned around with an innocent expression on her face.

"Yes, honey?"

"You know I don't like tea. Well, I do. But I'm tired, long flight, I just don't feel like any right now."

"Oh come on honey, indulge me." She grinned a white smile at her daughter, before turning around to make it. Isabelle sighed slightly and sat at the dinner table. She was just about to ask where Steve was, when her mother beat her to it. "Steve's just run down to get some more coffee, he'll be back in a minute. I would have told him to wait if I knew you'd be arriving. You just missed him. Did you see him?" Sally asked as she turned around to put a spoon in the dishwasher then turned back around to continue with the tea preparation process.

"No, I must have missed him."

Her mother hummed, then dropped it. She rotated around with two mugs of tea.

"Here we go," She said excitedly, with the same face that Isabelle remembered her having on her tenth birthday when she was bringing out her birthday cake. Isabelle smiled reminiscently. Her mother set down the mugs in front of her, then sat down with a heavy sigh like she'd been on her feet all day. As Isabelle took her first sip, she took in her mother. Her mother still looked very young. She knew her mother thought of herself as old, but she wasn't. She looked much younger for her age, even with the amount of years she spent in the sun on the farm. The wrinkles had begun but she aged well. Her face, the same but older, reminded Isabelle of her mortality.

"Long day at work?" Isabelle asked, as if she lived there and was part of the family's daily routine.

"Yeah, lots of paperwork, as usual." She took a sip of her own drink finally. "Don't get into management, kid, there's more paperwork than what's righteous." Her voice came out strong with that sentence, unlike the motherly coo her voice had been until then. It settled back into that after she voiced her opinion, though. Isabelle smiled into her tea.

"And Steve? How's his carpentering going for him?"

"Oh er - he gave it up some months back. He stays a' home now."

"Oh - he must like it then."

"He's a real homebody. Never thought I'd marry this way - I'm a real ol' fashioned gal. Your father was always the breadwinner, and me alongside him. But with Steve," She shrugged. "We jus' settled inta things. I work on ma ... flourishin' business and he quit his job to help ou' around the house."

"You never did like cleaning."

"Tha's what started the business in the first place! But gardens, not kitchens," She said into her cup. It made them happy. They didn't plan for Steve to be the homebody when they married, it just worked out that way for the both of them. She set her cup down decidedly.

"Now,"

"I'm happy for you and Steve. I'm sorry I missed the wedding."

Sally 'psh'ed and waved her arm.

"Now, you, young lady," She settled her daughter with a direct stare. "You've come home. Is there some trouble I need be worryin' abou'?"

"No, mom."

"No boy in yer life?"

"No."

"Good. Don't need no one knockin' on the door demandin' to see my lil girl,"

Just then a car pulled into the driveway. Three steps and the bug net door swung open with a tell tale screech and banged shut gently.

"Sally, I'm home." Steve's voice, gentle, forgiving and compassionate rang out. "They had the brand you like, remember last time they were out - " He walked into the kitchen and saw her there. His face broke into a smile. "Isabelle!" The youngest adult in the room smiled up at him and stood from her seat. She gave him a shy 'Dad' and went to hug him.

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><p><strong>Thank you for the wonderful reviews! Jonathan POV next chapter :) I had an unexpected dip in everyday life which explains my delayed update but I've got plenty of chapters lined up now for updating so no worries now about update frequency! :)<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

He sat outside in a parked, unmarked van. His hands were tight on the steering wheel. The interior smelt nondescript other than the smell of a van. His ice blue eyes were trained in front of him. As somebody exited a building and crossed the street, his hand inched for his mask.

_No_

It was not the time. Sighing through his nose, Jonathan adjusted his rear view mirror instead with a steady pale hand. Behind the rear view mirror out into the world was Gotham's overcast sky that he had to squint against.

Jonathan slumped against the driver's seat despite the adrenaline pumping through him. His eyes impassively watched the man in question cross the street and make his way down the busy sidewalk in the opposite direction. He took a deep breath and sighed, his hand instinctively feeling his pocket for a picture. He looked at her face. Her beautiful face. It hadn't been long but it felt like eternity already. He wanted to get back to her, but things had to be done here. Things that had to be taken care of before he could successfully go to her when it was safe. Regrettable, but necessary. Oh how he missed her. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, feel her near him... Priorities, priorities.

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><p>The glasses clinked as the three at the small dinner table laughed together.<p>

"Oh, Isabelle, I'm so glad you're home," Her mother said reminiscently, a warm smile on her face. "How I've missed you..."

Isabelle felt a small pang as she remembered Jonathan. How she wanted to be with him again, how she wanted it to go back to the way it was. What if she and Jonathan had had a do-over? And they grew up happy together? Would they be happily married somewhere now with their own house? Pushing those thoughts aside, Isabelle tried to focus on the conversation at hand, at rekindling the relationship she had with her mother and step father. But her thoughts kept going back to Jonathan and how she missed him, and how she wanted to see him again, touch him again, talk with him again, kiss him, and more.


	5. Chapter 5

With their target in sight, Jonathan got his head back in the game and refocused. For now, he had to do jobs to get him back in the swing of things. Since he'd been imprisoned (which wasn't long, but was definitely long for the streets) the balance of power had shifted. The change was drastic but Jonathan knew it was only in the beginning stages. He had to work to get the previous position of power he used to have in the town, to get the rings of thugs under his command, the right people, the locations, the information, it all had to be re-worked. Everyone had been given a do-over - been dealt a new hand, more like. Everyone was shuffling their cards around the table trying to get their old positions back. And Jonathan and Scarecrow had to get their old influence back, at the very least. His name carried weight, but if he were to get anywhere he needed the blow to follow through what his name carried. He wasn't looking to gas the entire city again - but he needed to seed himself back into Gotham's bloodwork - so he had a stake in things, but not enough to be conspicuous.

Don't get him wrong - Jonathan felt anything but in control. His plan made out to be sophisticated but really, inside, Jonathan felt out of control. (Not that he would admit it). He did not have the power or control in Gotham that he used to, that was worrying. He had only been gone a short while, and already this new Joker guy was buying up the town. Jonathan just needed to get himself started up again - and then he'd be gone, to Isabelle.

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><p>Isabelle lay back on her bed in the evening, sighing to herself, tired from her day. She'd taken some vacation time to set things up in Georgia before she got back to work. For now, she was staying with her parents again, just until she got her own place. They wouldn't let her stay in a hotel, and it felt good to be home.<p>

Her mind went back to Jonathan. It seemed to be all she thought about these days. She constantly wondered where he was, if he was alright, what he was doing. If he'd come for her. It was all unknowable at this point - if no one knew then she wouldn't. And she was in the last place in the world for him right now - he certainly wouldn't be able to check up on her if she was here. She wondered if moving back to Georgia was the right choice - but she corrected herself then firmly that it was. She was in her home town, with her family, and her job too. To be honest, being back in Georgia brought mixed feelings. It was where she grew up, where she felt safe and secure, and yet there was also the horrifying memories of when Jonathan had kidnapped her, and she and her mother had had to flee their home for witness protection. Isabelle tried firmly to push those thoughts, memories, fears, and the voices of doubt away - but they lingered at the back of her mind. Those things weren't going to happen again. She questioned herself why over and over and over, but she could not come up with a good enough reason of why they had happened in the first place. She still questioned herself and her sanity about her decision to remain with Jonathan the second time he kidnapped her, when she made her live with him in his house in Gotham.

For the most part, however, Isabelle's confidence had returned just by rekindling her relationship with her mother. She felt more powerful in herself, more competent. Somehow, seeing her mother with a man that she was happy with, also boosted Isabelle's belief in herself, and faith that she would turn out alright. She just needed to forgive herself.

It was no question - she loved Jonathan. She loved Jonathan like a friend, a sister, and a woman. She wanted him and needed him and loved him. But if she didn't feel safe, or trust him, then what was the point?

There wasn't even a point to worry about all of this! It was not certain that he would come back for her. So she needed to focus on herself and her happiness. It was for the greater good.


	6. Chapter 6

Isabelle woke up and plodded down the stairs for breakfast, tugging on the hem of her sweater. Her mind hadn't fully woken up yet. By the time she got to the breakfast table her mother called from the door,

"Honey! This just arrived for ya!"

Steve drank his morning coffee, eyeing the package his wife placed on the table before his step-daughter.

"Mm, what is it?" He asked her.

Isabelle looked at the address and did a double take. Her name and address were written in Jonathan's hand writing.

"Oh, I don't know," Isabelle said finally. "I don't think I ordered anything... I'll take it up to my room, just in case."

"Oh honey, you don't need to keep secrets from us! But sure, you do that," Her mother leaned down and kissed her daughter's cheek. "You look good today hun!"

Isabelle smiled softly at her mother then excused herself with the package and returned upstairs. The morning was so normal, as were her parent's behavior. She almost didn't think that Jonathan could have been sending her something. She sat down on her bed numbly. But the fact was, he had. He hadn't forgotten about her. He was sending her something, so he must have somehow found out that she'd moved back to Georgia.

Burning with curiosity, Isabelle moved a hand to open the package. But she almost didn't want to, for fear of what it might say. But she ripped it open and found inside a letter sitting ontop of a box. She opened the letter first and pulled out the folded sheet of paper inside, to reveal his cursive handwriting. She didn't think Jonathan was the verbal or written type. And she was right - there was nothing on the paper, it was completely white, except for a verse in the middle which had an address on it, and that was it. Isabelle's head snapped up to her mother's voice on the stairs, which sounded too close for her comfort,

"Honey! Breakfast is getting cold!"

"...Thanks, mom! I'll be right there!"

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><p>When Isabelle trudged down the stairs, she sat at the table casually.<p>

"I think I'm going in to work early." She said, filling her plate. "Meet my boss early, get on good terms."

Steve raised his brows.

"That's a good idea - never too early to make a good impression!"

She smiled at him. Sally smiled at the two of them and joined them to eat.

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><p>Isabelle drove her mother's red pick up truck down the road, one hand on the steering wheel, the other hand on the paper with the address, which she checked as she passed several establishments. The wind flowed through her driver's window and the sun was warm.<p>

For a few miles on the right there were stores, buildings, a school, a hospital, while on the left were only cornfields with Scarecrows standing in the center. Finally on the left she reached a plot of land with a house on it, and saw on the approaching mailbox that it was the right place, and turned into the dirt front yard. Isabelle looked over the place with her eyes, and sat back. No wonder the address was familiar - it was Jonathan's old home. Isabelle turned her head to look at the package sitting on the passenger seat, and picked it up, ripping it open.

Inside it, was a phone. It looked like a burner phone, and it was an old model, as well. Her lips slowly parted as she looked at it. She turned it on, and waited for the screen to load up, her eyes eyeing the scenery she was in. Finally, the main screen appeared, and she scrolled through the contacts, feeling disappointed when there were none. She thought for a moment that she would have the opportunity to call him -

Suddenly, the phone started ringing.

It rang, and it rang.

The phone stopped.

It started ringing again, the screen lighting up.

Isabelle stared down nimbly at it, too shocked to move.

On the third round of ringing, she lifted it and opened the lid, bringing the phone to her ear, her voice coming out soft in her hidden tentativeness.

"Hello?"


	7. Chapter 7

Yaayz for next chapter! Thank you for your guys' support, I couldn't have done it without you! I'm so glad to hear y'all support and love of this story and the one previous! Yipee doo-dah! So, enjoy :)

Thank you for the praise in your reviews! :)

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><p>Jonathan waited impatiently with the phone to his ear.<p>

"Isabelle…" He sighed to himself, wishing her to pick up the phone.

He brought the phone in front of him and tried one more time – the third time. This would be the last time he tried. Of course he'd try again, but he willed her to pick up today. He could imagine her sitting with the ringing phone in her hands, unsure to pick up. Good girl. Cautious, slightly paranoid. But today, she had to trust enough to pick it up so she could know it was him.

In mid-ring the ring cut off, and he heard silence. Quickly he brought the ear to his phone, his hand more hastily pushing it against the side of his face, and more clumsily, than the perfectionist would ever care to repeat. Thank goodness no one saw him.

"Isabelle?" He repeated, breathless. "Isabelle?!"

"…Jon?"

His breath flew out of him.

"Isabelle! … Isabelle."

A small, quiet sound. Probably her breathing. His eyes made quick darts as if he were trying to think of what she was thinking of. Finally, a quiet from her end,

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," He said, relieved. "Of course I'm okay. What about you, Isabelle, are you – are you – safe?"

"I am, yes." She responded, quiet, logical, calm. Good girl. She was everything he thought she'd be – but better. So far this conversation wasn't going where he wanted nor how he imagined, but it was good nonetheless. The first contact they'd had since he'd left for both their safety and now he had to know if she was alright, and if he could see her soon. Of course.

"Where are you? I'm coming to see you."

"…What do you mean where am I? You sent this phone didn't you?"

Giddy, gleeful, he giggled into the phone and he could tell by her silence that that probably was not how he should have acted.

"Oh, of course, my love, darling, of course. I was just excited."

"I can imagine."

"Are you not excited to hear from me?"

A small breath of surprise.

"No, that's not what I meant." Her voice sounded so different on the phone, but mechanical or not it was her voice and he loved to hear it. "I just… I don't know."

"Love, I've been gone a while. Months. And you have not heard from me until now. Given your situation with your father," He said, looking around where he was. "I can understand that you're cautious of me. I abandoned you."

"…My mother's married now."

"Really? That's good news."

"It's excellent, isn't it? I rather like him."

"Fabulous."

"Yes…"

A small, quiet moment on the phone.

"Well," He said chirpily. "I'm coming to pick you up. As soon as it's safe, darling, okay? Oh, and Scarecrow misses you." He chuckled. "I know you're in Georgia, darling, and I'm happy you've reconnected with your family. Sounds like you and your mother are getting along well, yes?"

"Yes."

"Well, don't get too comfortable. As soon as it's safe, I'm coming to take us away."

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><p>Dun dun DUN, what's up with that? Anyway, enjoy your day, hope you enjoyed this chapter! :D<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

"Jonathan, it doesn't work like that."

"Sorry?"

Isabelle sighed, and put a hand to cover her forehead, leaning back in the seat of her car.

"It doesn't work like that. You don't just announce out of the blue that you're coming to pick me up, pack my bags I'm going with you whether I like it or not."

"Well Isabelle… I – of course it's a choice, I just… never expected you to say no,"

"Well a lot of things have changed since you've been gone, Jonathan,"

"Yes, about that, same on my end, by the way," But before he could continue she continued,

"And I'm not some pet, or plaything, or some companion that you can just pick up and have tag along with you anyhow which way you like. I'm my own person, I have my own life. I have a job, I have a family, and I know you've done it twice but you can't take me away from all that!" Silence. "I love my life! I love my family! I love my job! I'm making a career for myself! Cliché, or not, I don't want you coming back into my life if you're going to take it away from me!"

"I see."

"Yeah." Then her speech voice continued, "And I let you do it before because I thought I had no choice, I thought of no better way, and I didn't think I deserved more. But I did, and I do. And Jonathan, you're not taking me away again." The power in her voice seemed to sway him.

"My, I can see things have changed." She knew Jonathan well enough to know that he meant it, his statement was not condescending or intended to be patronizing. It was subtle but his sharp wit was different to when he actually meant things.

Isabelle was caught between slamming her thumb down on the button to hang up and just sitting and resolving to wait for the conversation to end peacefully. She pulled the speaker part of the phone away from her mouth as she sighed and brought it back to her lips. She was just asserting her boundaries, she wasn't trying to crucify him - or herself. She loved him regardless, as well.

"I don't want to be kept," She said, speaking to herself, but it was also into the phone like she was talking to him. "I don't want to be kept,"

"But you want to be ours?" There was something guarded in that tone, something guarding something that was hopeful. Guarding meant he was trying to prevent himself from being hurt.

"Jonathan, I love you. I love both of you. I always have. I'm just saying, you're going to have to treat me different from now on, that's it. Either that, or don't treat me anywhich way at all because you're not with me."

She could practically tell his anger across the phone. And in a split second, a big beep was in her ear and she looked at the screen and she calmly read it, 'Call Ended'.


	9. Chapter 9

I'mmmmm back! Welcome back everybody to this story! We're both going to have a lot of fun, laughs, and tears. Or maybe not tears. I don't know. Maybe happy tears! Anyway, I'm glad I'm back, I'm glad you're back, I'm writing again, I had a lot in my life keeping me away from fanfiction, but I'm here again and with inspiration! So, with no further ado, enjoy!

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><p>Isabelle put down the phone onto her lap, then slowly drove home.<p>

She felt more confident with Jonathan than she ever had before. She hadn't noticed the tension in her shoulders or in her general being until it left when she said those precious, undeniable words to him. He'd hung up on her and that was unexpected, but she'd done what was necessary, and what was right.

Isabelle's eyes could be seen blinking once or twice in the rear view mirror as she drove. Her drive back to her house was a confident, calm one. She didn't think about her talk with Jonathan for the rest of the night.

Finally when she lay in bed that night, it hit her. With the smell of cotton and cut grass, and warm softness against her skin Isabelle ran over the conversation over and over again in her head. Bothered, she turned on her side. She hated to make him feel like she was blocking him out. But... it had been on her mind a while and had bothered her, and she didn't deserve that. If he was planning on whisking her away, then it mattered that he knew... she didn't quite know how to describe what she did.

Finally, Isabelle's thoughts drifted to what her future held. She was a young adult, she had her entire life ahead of her. Images floated over her mind of different possibilities, although none of them following critical thinking or logical line of thought.

In every possibility, Jonathan was there.

The next morning Isabelle rolled over and grabbed the phone, realizing she'd left it next to her pillow. She flipped it open and quickly dialed the last number. It went straight to voicemail, so the phone was either turned off, or, if it somehow was discovered, destroyed. But she left a voicemail asking him to call her back.

"I didn't mean to sound like I was pushing you out, Jonathan, if I did. I just want you to know that I..." She debated whether or not she should say it on a phone that may not be with him anymore, but in case it was, "love you. Anyway, call if you can, I'd really like to hear from you." She ended it and laid the phone next to her pillow. She decided she was going to go back to sleep as it was only dawn and after she rolled over she hadn't even pulled the covers up over her shoulder yet before the phone rang.

Conscious of her family resting in the house, which had walls quite thin, she jumped around and opened it up, bringing it to her ear, keeping her voice quiet.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Isabelle, why are you whispering? Are you in danger?" He sound panicked.

"No! No!" She whispered loudly, a hand holding out like saying 'stop', she flicked her head to flick a piece of her hair that was stuck to her lips in how fast she'd turned out, shifting because her leg felt uncomfortable in how she landed. "I'm fine! I'm fine! I'm just trying to be quiet, my parents are in the house,"

She heard a breathy chuckle, then quiet.

She sat with a folded lap on her now messy blankets, just listening to him breathing and being quiet, like usual Jonathan.

"Still living with your parents, belle,"

"Hey! I'm just staying here for a bit but I have my own place lined up," soon, she added mentally. He chuckled.

"I know. ... I miss you." He sounded like he was going to say more, but he stopped himself. He sounded uncomfortable.

"Me too," She sighed. She unfolded her legs one by one then lay down under her blankets, looking out of the window at the cornfield. The phone rested comfortably between her ear and the cushy pillow pushing up to meet her. He sighed over the phone, like he was tired and longing, and she missed it. Isabelle closed her eyes and started sobbing quietly.

"No, no, Isabelle, don't cry."

"I miss you."

"I know. I can't stand to be without you. Every moment is torture. I want to find you and bring you back here right now." His voice towards the end lowered into a growl, and she knew that Scarecrow had pushed his way through. For the latter ego, she whispered with her heart,

"I miss you," especially for him, and an answering, pleased growl came into her ear. She shifted her legs and squeezed them together. Her voice cracked. "I miss you both..."

In two words they both replied together.

"I know."


	10. Chapter 10

Quick a/n - Loved your reviews! Thank you so much! :) Yeah, totally updating, not stopping 'till I finish!

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><p>"I know." Both Jonathan and Scarecrow sighed on the phone. In the back of his mind, Jonathan still marveled both slightly and curiously at how both he and his other self agreed on one thing, Isabelle, and so strongly. In the beginning, after he accepted it, it was like there was no question about it. But Jonathan, ever studious and careful, finally when analyzing himself brought it to his own attention, when thinking about what Isabelle would say to him about something. He did that a lot.<p>

As Jonathan sighed into the phone his reply, his mind was racing, thinking of ways to get her back. To bring them together again. And this time, for good. He didn't think to reply that he loved her back - it was obvious. He'd loved her his whole life, he'd stated it already to her, it was just a fact. His mind was focused on the here and now, and the future; what was most important. He was going to bring he and Isabelle together, for good, and never part. - _Besides, w__hat kept pulling them apart, for heaven's sakes?_

Once, a long time ago, or not too long, depending on one's perspective - it had been so long yet chronologically in linear time such a short time before that he was with Isabelle - he was still, irrationally, afraid, that Scarecrow would hurt her. In the back of his mind, in his own private thoughts, he was afraid of that. Him - the master, and lord, and overseer, of fear, was afraid! Without his own consent too - his own, awareness. He'd been afraid, all this time, that Scarecrow, despite the years of longing and devotion towards Isabelle, might turn. For years, people were only objects to Scarecrow. They weren't _people, _they were machines of fear and Jonathan knew this best of all because he turned into him! God, Jonathan loved Isabelle so much. He couldn't live life without her, he couldn't bear to see her get hurt, even by him. Jonathan, Scarecrow, what's the difference, right? Nothing mattered to either of them anymore, after losing her. But controlling themselves was a loose canon, and Jonathan never touched Isabelle for fear that it would do something. Send the crazy over the edge. He was crazy anyway, but for God's sakes. Who knew what he was capable of if he really lost it. And that wasn't going to happen.

Of course, that was a horrible way to explain it. His whole life, Jonathan cared for no one but himself, his grandmother, and Isabelle. Nobody else mattered. And the fear, oh yes the fear. The fear fascinated both him and Scarecrow, or perhaps, more the latter, but what mattered to him more than the fear was the fear of living without Isabelle. He could not have a life without her in it. Which was just, another wrong way of explaining it. It was right, but at the same time, it didn't match how he felt. He wanted Isabelle in his life. He couldn't imagine a life without her. When they lived together in Gotham, he wanted to kiss her, he wanted to touch her, by God, damnit, and so did Scarecrow. He wanted to, but what held him back was the fear that Scarecrow might really do something. Constantly. It was in the back of his mind constantly. It pissed Scarecrow off to hell, but Jonathan had concerns for a reason.

Jonathan was just controlling it, but he was teetering. His obsession with fear was fine, cool, whatever. But a toe into that freezing pool too much and he didn't know what would happen, which was saying a lot. Too much of a good thing, he guessed.

He feared his potential. He feared his negative potential. It was only natural, Jonathan guessed.

And now, losing Isabelle, was the most stupidest thing he's ever done. It's the one thing he's regretted the most, and he hates stupid decisions and stupid mistakes, especially when he's the one that makes them. It was stupid and he was stupid. It was the most embarrassing thing he could think of. A blind man could see he shouldn't have let her go, and by God, he had. And through mutual agreement! They _agreed _to separate, to keep everybody safe. It made sense at the time, but it was irrational, hasty, and no way ever again he was leaving her. He's heard stories of people saying they lost something or let something go, and regretting it. Or they didn't know what they had until they lost it, that was a favorite one of his patient's. He didn't care. He hadn't cared. He thought it was irrational, because you'd appreciate something if you appreciated it, right? He thought he appreciated Isabelle. He was wrong.

Both he and Scarecrow punished themselves and each other every day since. He felt so bad about it.

And now, he could hear her crying a bit.

He was making _her _feel bad. And that was worse. A hundred, thousand times worse. Him, he could take, he, the fucker, deserved it. He let her go. He hurt her. Her? No. Sweet, innocent, Isabelle. His. Done nothing wrong. And she was crying. She was right to put him in his place. He'd had her his whole life, never reached out and touched her, hurt her, _let her go, _and now she was crying because of him. The stress made it a little harder for critical thinking, but he pushed through it. He was getting her back no matter what. Jonathan, - _Scarecrow - _and Isabelle, forever. Cheesy, but true.

He already said don't cry but he'll say it again. Not an observation out of impatience, just an observation. He could never be impatient with her.

"Please don't cry, Isabelle. You say the word, I'm bringing us back together again. I'm thinking of ways now."

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><p>Isabelle lay back, Fluffy having jumped on the bed now lay on one of her calves, and she stroked his big head that lay on her thigh with one hand, smiling into the phone.<p>

"I know," She turned on her side onto the phone, wiping her cheek. "I just miss you," She hadn't anticipated the depth to which she'd missed him. But it was really deep, so heartfelt. She couldn't believe she agreed to this.

"This is a mistake, this was all a big mistake, **_I'm having you and I'm _**- sorry,"

A confused, "What?", lifting her head off the pillow.

"Nothing, I - don't worry." He sounded like he was hiding something, pulling away from the phone a little. It was not like Jonathan to stutter. She could imagine him rubbing a hand over his forehead again and again, his other hand on the phone. She could imagine his blue eyes, she remembered them so clearly, missed them so much, just watching them look about as he thought, or staring at the TV when he was thinking, and sometimes, when they'd turn on her, and it'd be like a physical feeling. Her mother spoke about the feeling she got when she was with her first husband, the love of her life. She explained the butterflies and the, she called, worms, in her stomach, like they were wriggling. The warm feeling in her chest. Sometimes it was like her breath was taken right out of her, sometimes it was like she was breathing fast like she'd just ran. Each time Jonathan looked at her, Isabelle felt that feeling. So powerfully, in fact, she could recall each time he looked at her, because each time it happened was linked with that inescapable feeling. Both joyous, and burdensome at the same time. But it still made her feel so excited and happy. She wanted to be with him forever.

Of course, at the time, when they parted, there was a lot of stuff to sort out. And also, the fear of being hurt was a big thing. If she stayed with Jonathan, either she or Jonathan or both at the same time could have gotten hurt. That was unacceptable. Isabelle didn't ask for a mob life - she didn't ask for a criminal life. She didn't want one, she didn't deserve one, and for God's sake - she didn't do anything to become a criminal! She was not living like that. Living on the run, living wondering what Jonathan was doing or who he'd hurt. No. Just. Flat. Out. _No_.

For Heaven's sakes.

Also, there was the past imbalances in their relationship. Isabelle was kidnapped twice by Jonathan. ... God's sake, she was _running_, from him. Any chance to get out and for it to look okay, a part of her anyway, felt justified, and fair, like something had come. Her ship had come in. Although it was in the back of her mind, it still niggled at her. And the wanting to run away, was one of the reasons she left, so easily, and quickly. She was _through _with this. All of this.

It was not that she wanted Jonathan to change. She loved him for who he was. She knew more about Scarecrow than he'd told her. She loved them both. She didn't push one out for the other.

She didn't have any answers, she just needed something to change. She needed their past to be atoned for, if that was the correct word. She needed to go back to college. She needed to study Psychology - her secret passion.

Things would come right, she knew they would.

She asked softly, gently, with a warm pause, like a cozy bubble, asked,

"What were you going to say?"

"I'm not going to repeat what he said. _He _is not going to repeat what he said. It doesn't matter."

She heard him sigh. She waited patiently.

"I'm not saying that out loud to a lady, that I love,"

That struck her. What came first was his relationship with his grandmother - he'd told her, he left some parts out without words, but she'd heard it all. She knew the complicated relationship he had with his only matronly figure he'd ever had, the only parental figure he had, and yet still one thing that stuck with him, he would still be courteous towards a lady, towards her. She didn't know why, but this stuck out to her. The second, was the way that he said he loved her. So casually.

Like it was just a fact. Like it was just so casual.

It was just... it stood out to her. She knew he loved her, but to hear it was special. It was nice. He meant so much to her, it was nice, it meant so much to her, to hear it reciprocated. Why ever did they leave each other? And she viewed their parting as an equal thing - the mark of a first mutual decision between them. When they were teens and when they were children, they would also agree. They argued to spark intellectual debate, they were fierce competitors to the other, rivals, enemies, and friends. Maybe that's where it all went wrong. Palpable in Isabelle's mind, was the few days on the way home from high school, the endless cornfields, the scarecrows, the afternoon sun, the blue sky tined with that sun, the forgettable wind... of when he, teenage Jonathan, told her about everything that happened to him. His relationship with his grandmother. So long ago that was. And they got along with everything. About everything. She challenged him every step of the way, but they did that to each other, on purpose, to stimulate, to debate. They like questioning the other, correcting them. It was a way of fierce independence, and showing that you cared. Their minds were the same. She'd never met that ever, anywhere else, in her life. That's how she knew she loved him. She would never love someone who was not a mental mind mate for her. And they were. Since the introduction of the first kidnapping, his lust, his love for her, Scarecrow, were they really indiscriminate? Their relationship altered. It was like, when he declared he had personal feelings towards her, that were romantic, and the act of kidnapping...

It scared her.

A thought struck her. Actually, that was interesting. The night before, Isabelle had a dream. She was in a cornfield, but all around her, the corn didn't touch her, in a circle. It was distant from her. She looked around in her dream in a circle. It was just the cornfield. Up ahead was a crucified scarecrow, hat, head bobbed, hands limp, clothes, jeans, jacket; red, black flannel shirt, blowing in the wind. It interested her, took her interest. She took one, two, slow steps towards it. Then the scarecrow was gone, and it appeared closer to her, on the ground on level with her, but it changed. It became herself. Her long brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin. Herself, looking both her age, a teenager, and a young woman all in one, was looking at her, moving forward to Isabelle with the same speed she had approached it. It raised it's right hand towards her, lips parted, and Isabelle felt like she'd found something, she felt a feeling of empowerment, satisfaction, peace of mind. Like something she'd been searching for had been found. Then the scarecrow/her disappeared just as it reached her, barefoot on the corn-flattened ground, it's nakedness of the feet and calves struck her as both beautiful and odd. She was wearing a white dress, the scarecrow/her. Then she disappeared. Then her green corn surroundings. Then Isabelle woke up.

She only remembered just now, there was a connection there between those two thoughts, and she didn't know what yet, but it was interesting and she'd explore it further. Something about the leaving Jonathan, reclaimed her spirituality. Reclaimed her...

Her thoughts then turned back to Jonathan. How mixed she felt about him. How apathetic, so strongly, so distant, so attached. More poignantly, he was her best friend, her love, and also her abductor. How was she supposed to...?

She found her hand rubbing over her forehead in the same fashion that Jonathan usually did. This was not a simple, straight-forward, let's get back together, digoridy doo. This was not... _simple. _He couldn't, she couldn't, either, snap her/his fingers and things would come right. She knew things would come right,

She asked him politely to say what he was going to say.

He repeated it gently into the phone, each word enunciated clearly.

Listening to it was almost comical.

Jonathan did not swear, and it was funny to hear it come from his lips, but she knew it wasn't entirely him, but the other him.

She couldn't help herself.

She'd gotten her power back.

She laughed at him.


	11. Chapter 11

How much longer was she going to do this?

Clearly he was sick.

He was sick from day one, or somewhere along the way her friend's path went dark.

It was making her sick being around him. He was not a good influence.

Years of depression, getting over the kidnappings.

She thought if she didn't rock the boat, it would save her. If she was good to him, he would return to his good self, before the split, before he turned... horrible.

Whatever it was that was with him, he had a need for it, and she couldn't be around him with it there. She thought she could heal him, or inspire him somehow to return to his previous good ways when they were children, by being compassionate, kind, and forgiving.

Perhaps it was her father's fault for never being around. But it's not his fault that she had made her decisions in life. She's got to stop blaming him for not being better. He's awful. She's got to get over it. And it's the same with Jonathan.

Maybe she didn't love him. Maybe the feelings were Stockholm Syndome. She'd crushed on him before, but if she thought about it clearly and objectively, the feelings intensified right after she escaped from Jonathan. Was this all a big mess? Isabelle had no clear way to see this, and no answers, but the only thing she knew for certain was that this was a one-sided relationship, it was sick, and she was caught in some gigantic web of confusion, emotions, and ... it was difficult to say...

Co-dependence.


	12. Chapter 12

Isabelle had gone quiet for a while. Jonathan himself had gone silent. But Scarecrow was churning in the back… She was quiet too long. She was never this quiet when everything was okay. This was wrong. What was wrong?

Jonathan was vaguely aware of Scarecrow's stirring… growing irritated and tired of it himself, he ignored it.

Everything was clicking for Isabelle. So much made sense now, that didn't before. So much now, things that she had did, said, and thought, looked ridiculous. The things she feared … - the things she wanted suddenly, were in reach…

Isabelle hung up.


	13. Chapter 13

-quick note: the break was to have an official feeling -

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><p>Isabelle went back to Gotham.<p>

Months passed. Isabelle didn't know who she was. She was scared all the time. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, feeling terror. It was like she was a child all over again. She went back to her roots. She applied the makeup her mother did for her when she was a child, she brushed her hair the same way as all those years ago, and put it up, the same way, as all those years ago. She wore girly, frilly things. It got attention around the office – the eyes of her male co-workers, and subsequently, the jealous ones of her female's – but Isabelle didn't care. She was on the hunt to find herself.

It was not easy. Isabelle made many, many mistakes. With her friends and co-workers, sometimes she was too bold, too pushy, sometimes she was too shy and timid, did not set her boundaries. She could not tell right from wrong anymore. She could not tell when someone was playing, or when they really needed a re-definition of boundaries. It led to a lot of awkward stops in conversation, for both reasons, in both cases. Isabelle went through friends like she went through clothes.

She couldn't make up her mind.

One minute she liked someone, the next minute she didn't. She went out of that girly phase, wanted to dress darker, more mature, and elegant. She would stare at the mannequins in the shop. If she was this frivolous, she would be out of money. She'd already bought herself a new wardrobe the first time. So she restricted herself to just going to look at the windows, then breaking away - and leaving. She felt like herself after that.

She had her hand on her purse wherever she went. Her eyes darted around the street, looking for HIM. Every man with dark hair, glasses.. sometimes just a suit, got her nervous and her eyes glancing around. It was ironic, it was torture, it was her pain, that that response would be something he loved in his victims.

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><p>His victims.<p>

* * *

><p>A newspaper, flimsy, brittle, covered with dirt and some leaves of autumn swept by her foot and her eyes darted with it as it passed. The same headlines. The same story.<p>

Looking at herself in the mirror, it was the same story. Isabelle was terrified. She checked her watch. Again, only thirty seconds had passed. It felt like eternity. It was old news that she didn't know who the person in the mirror was, but she felt like she was re-making herself from the beginning all over again. Her childhood, adolescence, it was gone. She was twenty something and starting from birth.

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><p>Something in Isabelle still didn't accept the going of Jonathan. She wanted to hold on. Forget everything else, all the bad stuff, but remember Jonathan. The good. The playful. The intelligence – the good humor. Not the snarkiness that sometimes came out or how hard it was for the other children to understand him. She wanted him to come back, to come after her. She was dueling with herself. She had said no. She had said don't come after me, leave me alone, don't call, don't write, don't see me. Something in her was still hopeful he'd ignore her.<p>

The cream chair reclined back, and a warm spray touched her scalp, the hairdresser asking if it was hot enough. She nodded mutely, unable to speak. She hadn't been able to open her mouth since she'd entered. After pointing that she needed a haircut, the hairdresser, unusually quiet for the stereotype, just nodded and accommodated her to the washer.

There was nothing special about getting her hair cut. But with each lock that fell to the floor, Isabelle felt lighter. It didn't move in slow-motion, and the hairdresser didn't have any particular meaningful movements, but just the act itself improved Isabelle's demeanor. She felt lighter. She hadn't cut her hair in years. She'd grown it to her waist as she grew up. Now that was gone. The old, and Jonathan.

It took getting out of the chair to realize that she was shaking. The hairdresser noticed as she was paid, but didn't ask. She was very good at pretending she didn't notice. But Isabelle's curse, the curse of attention, of detail, she noticed, and she would carry that memory for the rest of her life, she noticed, as she took her receipt and left the high priced hairdresser place. She'd wanted it to be meaningful, special. She wanted some sort of deposit in her future.

Immediately after going home Isabelle felt so sick she went into her bathroom and hovered over the sink. She dunked her head, overthrowing her now bob-cut hair, then, groaning, kneeled before the bathtub and ran the shower head and just washed out all the product that the hairdresser had put in.

She washed it all out until she could feel nothing but her pure, organic hair, then she turned off the shower head and just touched her hair and her scalp all over.

It felt like she had lost a part of herself. She looked herself in the mirror, and the terror was tenfold. She didn't know who she was.

She blinked, told herself to pull herself together. She got back down on her knees and wiped her nose and her face. She put her head over the bathtub and calmly turned on the shower head. Using her own products, which she would need to buy more of soon, she shampoo'd and conditioned her hair. Once it was done, her hands were a little wrinkly, and it felt like too much of her day had been spent on her hair. She towel dried, wiped her face again, and went to eat something healthy. She had a late lunch, all the while looking around the walls and thinking she would never get used to moving.

Isabelle was still looking at herself in the mirror. A minute had passed. The person in the mirror was becoming more familiar to her. After days of repetitive looking, just seeing, when she was at the bathroom at work right after just using the restroom, or seeing herself in the rear view mirror when she checked behind her as she drove, and then coming home, showering, or seeing herself in the morning as she dressed herself. She only dressed herself very femininely…. It wasn't routine. She never got into that. It was more, when she felt like it. Otherwise, she dressed normally – casually.

Fluffy was not with her – he reminded her too much of a past time. Her mom gave him to a friend whose daughter had just moved away, and needed a companion. Isabelle was happy to see him go to someone who needed him more than she did.

Isabelle thought many times about perhaps informing the Gotham police that the Scarecrow… liked her. She thought logically it sounded like a good idea. She also thought that the Gotham police were all corrupt. They might hand her over to him if they were motivated to do so. But anyway, they were not her concern. Her own safety was her concern, and each time she thought about maybe just popping in and letting them know her history, she thought better of it. No need to cause a scene where there wasn't … okay that didn't make sense. No need to make a big deal out of something that right now, wasn't happening anyway.

There were plenty of reasons why Isabelle loved her work, and this was one of them. It kept her busy. Chores did the rest at home. But when her home was spic and span and she finished all her work, in those slow, crawling moments, it was easy to miss him. (get it? Get it? I'm just kidding).

Big cornfields, blue skies. Dirt roads. Jonathan's face, at school. How they would sit behind the building and eat lunch. How he would talk about psychology and his theories. Those jock bullies, that one night scare… But mostly, the cornfields, her house, and him.


	14. Chapter 14

It was useless. She'd been running from this, like a butterfly in formation running from its fate.

She thought. The process had tried to happen over and over, and IsAbbelle couldn't resist it anymore. She tried to be like everyone else. She knew she had a different fate, but running from it had her running into its arms. Once there, it's arms circled around her so tight she couldn't run.

It reminded her of her father, the arms she always imagined would embrace her and hold her tight. Never, letting, go. She found some small comfort in that. She also thought about Jonathan. She felt pain that he could love her but never let her go.


	15. Chapter 15

Like a broken fruit, its seeds heart open beating before the sun. It's rays went in to where it couldn't before. It hurt so much but the shell she was in , like dried walnut , closed her in too tightly. She was a shellfish that instead of moving with the rhythm and transitioned to the next phase, held onto her shell and grew too big. Obsession with her unbalanced her and she grew fearful of all things big, including herself, her love for her father, and the love her mother had when she looked at that man.

Next came the confusion. The days that went by, her months flew off her calender on her wall. It was like minutes were passing by. Her work did not suffer – but it was not her focus or priority now. The light on her answering machine blinked with a message from her mother, she hadn't called in months. A black hole swirled in the center, and Isabelle was hanging onto the edge of the world by her fingernails. She dipped, head dipping underwater, and it was like relief, a breath of air. She rose back up out of the water, but she was one with the water now.

A black chalk fell from a whiteboard, a band holding up her hair fell down, slipped off her front. From the front of her forehead like a sheet of water, but the headband was not needed now. It was her, part of her, but no way was the headband removed from who she was. Chalk, black, rolled on the floor and 'clinked'. Her eyes gazed down at it, unseeing.


	16. Chapter 16

She's writing. She's been writing for three months now. Or had it been three days? In her mind's eye, beyond the whiteboard at work or her cubicle walls, the code under her eyes, she sees her code under her fingertips. She sees and understands but does not understand. She knows what she's writing and it's hard, it's difficult. She doesn't like what she sees. She's been running from it forever. But it's the truth, the code.

Work is not her priority. But months ago the looks began, asking if she was okay, commenting that she looked 'very concentrated'. They won't let her go, but only because they like the gossip. Something's happening to someone and she won't tell anyone what's going on. She knows they are snails, shrimp, once they've cleaned off what's in front of them they move on.

Months ago the self-… the temperance came. It's easier to control herself, to be diplomatic. It doesn't make her bat an eyelash to quell an argument across the meeting table between two others before it begins, it helps her mediate when a project doesn't go over well, when someone's work is rejected. She soothes the burns like the words fly from her tongue. Her boss suggests that she should write. She is not present with him when he does.


End file.
